


Godfather

by Supernova95



Series: Home Alone [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Robin (Comics), Teen Titans, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Family, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supernova95/pseuds/Supernova95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So he was determined to be the best godfather he could be, simply because if he wasn't then it was very possible that Timothy would grow up in a lovelorn home surrounded by nannies, childminders who didn't love him in the way he should be loved: parental love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Godfather

**Author's Note:**

> An AU where Tim was always the Waynes' next door neighbour and they take him in when they find out the eight year old is being left at home alone.

It had taken him by surprise at first. The Drakes, his neighbours, wanted  **him** to be their son's godfather.

Not that he didn't want to be; it just surprised him.

It surprised him because the Drakes weren't very neighbourly... at all. In fact they were about as far from neighbourly as you could get. They were rarely ever home, declined all invitations to the manor unless they were specifically either charity events or meetings about joint ventures for Wayne Enterprises and Drake Industries.

Really, he barely knew them. They were distant, and from what he could tell; unloving. Always going off around the world on either business or pleasure, which, it didn't matter, but they were never home. How could they raise a son properly if they were never home?

Little Timothy Jackson Drake  _deserved_ better.

Because he had seen the little baby, and he was little; 5lb 3oz* little, excruciatingly little, so little that he might break if you hold him too close, hug him too hard.

And the family he was born into didn't deserve him. Because they were polar opposites; he was sweet, kind, gentle, even at a few weeks old... and they were... well: not.

So he was determined to be the best godfather he could be, simply because if he wasn't then it was very possible that Timothy would grow up in a lovelorn home surrounded by nannies, childminders who didn't love him in the way he should be loved: parental love.

He looked at the Drakes, the way they scowled throughout the Christening, the way unhappiness and scorn radiated off of them, and he was happy that he had had Alfred after his parents died, because people like the Drakes shouldn't be allowed to be parents. They were going to hurt this child, this beautiful child with bright blue eyes and gracious smile, and there was nothing any of them could do about it... for the moment. Because the minute he could he was going to do something about it, because he wasn't going to see another child grow up without a proper family... not that  **he**  could give him that, but someone could; right?

-

The first time his Godfatherly duties were called upon was only a few months after Tim's christening. His parents were going on a dig to the Neanderthal Caves of South France, apparently the date of the dig was agreed on two years in advance, before Tim, they  _really_  couldn't miss it and the nanny had to cancel, so could he possibly look after Tim for a week.

That was all it was meant to be. It ended up being three and a half, then again they weren't to blame. Eyjafjallajokull had spewed an ash cloud into the upper troposphere meaning they couldn't fly home. They hadn't even called, just turned up one day apologising with blank faces, probably more upset at the inconvenience of being stuck in France for an extra two and a half weeks than leaving their child in Gotham for that time, a child who had only just stopped breast feeding (and that was far too soon for Alfred's liking anyway).

It hadn't mattered to Alfred and him really. Tim was all a family could want in a baby, quiet (probably too quiet) only making noise when he needed changing, feeding, burping or was tired.

He really was the cutest thing they had ever seen. Bright blue eyes shining, an just so small.

How was he six months old already? He looked no more than a few weeks; at best.

So tiny, so precious, so small you could lose him.

There came a point in that three weeks that Bruce didn't want to leave Tim at the manor all day, even with Alfred there; it just didn't seem fair. As far as he could tell, the only times Tim had left his house so far were to go to the hospital a few weeks after he was born because he had come down with a cold (and he was just so small) that he took a turn for the worse, and developed into something more; to go to the church for his christening; or to come to Wayne Manor.

In six months they were the only times Timothy Jackson Drake had left his house. He had never been into Gotham... to see Gotham (no the hospital didn't count) and Bruce was determined to rectify that.

Commence operation "bring your next door neighbour's kid to work day".

Tim had probably never been fussed over so much in his entire life, and he made a mental never to leave Tim alone with his secretary and office staff... he may not come back. He also made a note to send round a memo that said;

"No the baby was not his, as much as he wished he was, Tim was his next door neighbours' son, his Godson, and he was just looking after Tim because his parents were stuck in France"

Yeah, he really should send that memo around, he always getting really sick and tired of repeating himself, and he really really didn't want some snoopy reporter coming around and getting the wrong end of the stick;  **he** got enough of that as it was.

With the latest bout of cheek inching and cooing he was so close to pulling a batman glare on them... but 'business man Bruce Wayne' doesn't Batman glare. Though as much as  _he_  disliked the fawning over the baby... Tim was loving it. Soaking up the attention like a sponge; Bruce would have thought, for someone so love and touch starved, that the attention would bring Tim distress, he had been fully prepared for a crying baby, and later on in life it may do, but at this malleable time in his infanthood Tim was laughing at the set of keys being dangled just above his head, not bawling his eyes out. The individual was making sure he couldn't actually grab them, but Tim seemed to find trying just as fun.

He wouldn't mind having a child, having a cute tiny little thing to love, to watch grow, develop, learn; to see a child become all that they were meant to, to fulfil their destiny; as such.

But he couldn't.

It was selfish and wrong and not right. He  **couldn't** justify bringing a child into his world, a world where he *could* die any night. A world where there were dangers around every corner. Dangers from having a vigilante as a farther (what would his rogues do if they found out who he was- go after his child(ren)); dangers with being the child of one of the most wealthy people in the world. He couldn't bring the possibility of harm into a child's life. He couldn't leave another child without a father... not like him... He couldn't take the chance that someday his child would be all alone; left in a world of butlers (he loved Alfred, but even he isn't immortal) nannies and child-minders, he had no right to condemn a child like that; not like Tim's parents had condemned him.


End file.
